


Souls On Fire

by alwaysbeenapirate



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, F/M, Sexual Tension, Spirit World, True Love, Underworld
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2016-02-23
Packaged: 2018-05-06 16:13:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5423570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alwaysbeenapirate/pseuds/alwaysbeenapirate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's spent twenty eight long years in the depths of a hopeless Underworld when he first sees Emma Swan. Striking a deal with Hades, Killian learns that she can save him from this unending purgatory for a simple price. But when her very presence sets his soul ablaze for the first time in ages, will he be able to pay it? [Underworld AU]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I don't know what the hell I'm thinking starting another story, but I've been struggling with my other stuff lately and I'm hoping this might help me process 5A haha. This story is a big combination of my Greek mythology knowledge, snippets from Hercules and OUAT scenes, and a few other things that I felt like tossing in :] definitely a little AU from what's been speculated for 5B so far. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it! All rights/characters belong to OUAT and its deviant writers. I own nothing.

Waiting. A hopeless, monotonous, never ending sort of waiting. If there was anything Killian Jones was good at,  _that_ was it. Okay, it wasn't that he was specifically skilled or even that he enjoyed it - no, it was more a matter of him having nothing  _else_ to be good  _at_.

Well, at least not anymore.

In all actuality, he liked to think he'd always been a fairly patient man. As a sailor in his former life, Killian had much experience with biding time and even more so with drafting ways to achieve this desired calm temperament. Yet with all methods, there's often a bit of madness - and that was  _very_ much the case in his current circumstances.

Yes, the lunacy here came in the form of a number. Ten thousand two hundred twenty nine days… _and_  counting. There was definitely no end in sight, but there was every reason to stop keeping track. He didn't though and he really had no clue why. So as time carried on, so did Killian.

He warred through every single day - and they  _all_ started the same.

He didn't require sleep anymore. He hadn't for years now - about twenty eight of them to be exact. Being in some state of deceased was the likely cause of such a side effect, but he still found himself laying flat on the damp cold ground each night while chasing down dreams. The pleasant type of slumber never came, but nightmares often plagued the sleep he fell into but didn't require. The flashes of sins he couldn't recall committing suffocated his mind as he tossed and turned on the hard terrain, a series of scrapes and soreness assaulting his back when he finally came to.

He didn't remember the terrorizing visions when he woke up in a cold sweat, his breath shaky in his throat as he rubbed at the dark circles surrounding his eyes. The dreary light that met his gaze arrived at different times every morning, a detail that caused his routine loving soul to drown in exasperation. An untimely rising wasn't the best way to greet the day, but then again, waking up in the barren land just outside of Hades' dominion wasn't high on his list of preferred locations either.

It had taken him a few years to confirm, but the area he was being forced to call home was wedged between the River Styx and its surrounding marsh. It wasn't paradise, but it wasn't exactly awful either. The water had always soothed him and this river was no exception - as long as he could avoid the snap of the occasional crocodile. Thank the  _gods_ their ghostlike nature meant they weren't permitted on solid ground.

He couldn't help the fact that he always came back to the same place. The edge of the downtrodden mass of trees was the quietest spot he had come across since he'd landed here and the view when the sinking light burned at the brimstone horizon was nothing short of menacingly beautiful. Plus, it was some semblance of a routine - and he  _needed_ to cling to that.

He found his feet earlier on this particular day than he had in a long while, his mind free and his vision sharp. Running an anxious hand through his unkempt and disheveled hair, Killian tried not to question the clarity he felt as he brushed off his sleeves and rolled his shoulders in hopes of assuaging the dull pain in his back. There weren't many mornings that started quite so fresh when one was trapped in this realm and it was likely that it wouldn't last long. He decided to make the most of it.

###### 

A dull mist hung in the air as Killian trampled down the shallow hillside onto a well worn path, cracked cobblestones underfoot as he adjusted the hood of his ragged, black cloak. God, he  _hated_ wearing that damn thing, but the Underworld wasn't hell - and the cool temperature proved that. He was about to once again wonder why he hadn't lost that sensation of hot and cold, but decided against the useless curiosity. His trip to this in-between prison seemed to break a lot of rules - the fact that he still felt human was just one of the many grievances that had graced that list.

Shivering slightly, his steps fell heavy as he wandered toward the sound of soft wailing. He'd headed this same direction a few times before and given the fact that things rarely changed around here, Killian was vaguely sure that the lost souls that manned the area surrounding Hades' orchards hadn't gone anywhere. The jaunt wouldn't be a short one, but the several miles would give him time to think - it wasn't as if he had much else to do. He staggered along the ash covered walkway as he set into the familiar pattern of brooding.

Twenty eight years had flown by faster than they should have. Killian's frustration had evened out after a stretch of time, his extreme anger and raging temper driving him to near insanity for the first decade or so. Eventually, he'd done what he had to in order to keep his wits - he shut it all off. Everything from his emotions to his sense of hope became dull after a while, something he was glad for when he couldn't be glad for much else. The Underworld didn't seem like a place where keeping your humanity about you would be helpful so burying it was his best option until he had another. Well, or at  _least_ until he found out what he was doing here. Killian had accepted long ago that he wasn't fit for heaven, but there had to be a reason as to why he wasn't in hell yet. He just wished he knew what it was.

Perhaps that was the bane of the entire thing - Killian knew very little of his own demise. His life had ended abruptly and in a way he only vaguely remembered. He'd heard it mentioned that this was the way of this intermediate holding place - memories became bleak and broken as a man waited for judgement. Souls came to be purified or persecuted based on mortal actions. He knew whatever he'd done as a man was questionable, but maybe it was somehow redeemable. After all, he wasn't burning for it -  _yet_. Instead, he was waiting.

It was a coin flip as to which was worse at this point. He was pondering just that as he bent down to untangle his cloak from the prickly thorns of a rare bush on the side of the path.

"Bloody hell!"

The often used and now  _quite_ ironic sentiment left Killian's lips in a startled yelp as something from just behind the prickly plant hissed loudly. He jumped backward with wide eyes and his heart pounding as a feral, wiry whiskered animal skulked from the undergrowth. Killian couldn't help how hard he grit his teeth when the feline stretched its legs with a meow.

"Sodding  _cat_ …"

He mumbled his irritation as he side eyed the mangy orange tabby before heading up the road. If that little encounter was setting the standard, maybe it  _would_ be better to stick to the shadows. Killian quickened his pace a bit, turning back a few times to spy the little beast watching him.  _Talk about strange,_  he thought as his feet plodded on the ground at a new speed until he met the dreary gates of Hades' land.

"Demon," a voice croaked from just behind the chains crisscrossed on the iron bars. "You have business here?"

The man with the inquiry was definitely old and quite possibly enslaved as he held close to a wooden staff. His shroud was torn and the hood dropped down over his eyes, a pair that Killian was certain were filled with regretful darkness. He swiped his slightly damp hair off his forehead before landing a stubborn glare on the guard.

"Just need to pick something up," Killian offered vaguely. "Won't take long."

"Does he know you're here?"

The man didn't have to be specified - it was obvious that the moniker not being muttered was that of the god who ruled this realm. Hades had always been elusive, not making himself known to many. In his previous life, Killian had heard legend of the lord of the Underworld - a fallen deity who was more sympathetic than the devil but had a vengeful mind and a cold manner of dealing with the deceased. Hades never acknowledged the fact that a fairly undead man had been wandering in his dark realm for years now, but he  _had_ to know Killian was there. Perhaps he didn't care - or perhaps there was a reason for his silence. The constant droning of years had shown Killian that wondering wasn't productive so he shook the thought off quickly before snapping his attention back to the soul at the gate.

"I've been here before," Killian explained, resting his hands on the bars. "I doubt he'll mind."

"Well, enter at your own risk, spirit," the man mumbled. "The damned are not always so welcome when it comes to Hades' grounds."

"Good thing I'm merely one of the  _departed_ then," Killian snapped back, pushing the entrance forward as it squeaked. "I'll take my chances."

The guard turned and wandered off into the misty fog that hovered low on the cinder covered ground. Killian felt his defenses lower slightly as he moved past the fencing and into the boundaries not traversed by many. It didn't matter - he'd be out of sight before anyone could ever say the word 'trespasser'. Well, hopefully.

###### 

The River Acheron wasn't known well by most, but Killian had stumbled upon it his second time inside the godly gates. It wasn't deep but rather swampy and concealed by the disillusioning haze that lingered above the steamy water. The current was often loud, the murky water hitting hard against a boulder where it crossed streams with the River Styx. He'd learned to avoid the shoreline, learning long ago that the waves were unforgiving as they tempted you with senseless memories from the life you'd lost.

_Then you're going to have to answer life's big question - what kind of man are you going to be?_

_I fight my enemies, but I fight fair._

_He's my brother. He's all I have left._

He wished desperately that he could make sense of it all. Killian tried to quell the hurt threatening to fill his senses as he stomped along the riverbank. He knew that black reeds grew near the water's edge and he wondered how difficult it would be to pull them from the somewhat pliable soil. They might be just what he needed to complete a little project he'd been contemplating for a while now. His eye caught sight of one close enough to avoid the river's pull and took a deep breath before tiptoeing toward it. His fingers had barely closed around it when his eyes flickered upward toward something brighter - something that was very,  _very_ out of place.

Killian blinked hard as he narrowed his gaze and stepped back to a safer spot. He was almost  _sure_ he was imagining it - he  _had_ to be. He turned fast, moving up the rocky riverside to a small overhang. As he felt his cloak drag along the ground, he stepped to the edge of the hidden lookout spot. His hand held him steady as it gripped a small boulder and his mouth fell open in awe. This wasn't a trick. It wasn't a hallucination. It was  _real_ \- or rather  _she_ was real.

She was  _there_. There was a  _woman_ \- or perhaps an angel. He was having a hard time distinguishing which was more plausible.

As he squinted the short distance up the side of the screaming ripples of water to get a better view of her, his heart racing in his chest as he watched her. She was slender, her legs clad in dark pants that seemed to highlight her fit figure. Her arms and shoulders were bare, their pure paleness emphasized by her gray tank top. Her boots were black and knee high, something Killian noted might serve her well if she was here to stay…though it's likely she wasn't -  _was_ she?

She spun around after a moment, her long wavy blond hair falling on her shoulders in tangles that probably would look stunning under the bright daylight the Underworld lacked. Her expression should have been terrified. She should have been frantic. Yet as Killian caught the slightest look at her face, he took note of two things - she was absolutely beautiful and she was one hundred percent annoyed. Watching her swat at the slight sheen of smoke in the air as she sighed in obvious aggravation, Killian smiled subtly while drawing a conclusion he hadn't in a very long time.

This day was definitely  _not_ going to be the same.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just posting this while I take a break from working on holiday fics for people :] I have the next chapter nearly finished so it will be up after Christmas sometime! I have big plans for this one so stay tuned! All rights/characters belong to OUAT. I own nothing except my obsession with Killian Jones and his sassy self.

Killian was stuck somewhere between shock and intrigued surprise by the time he finally snapped out of the trance he’d fallen into. He stood on the concealed cliff, analyzing her every move and waiting for her to evaporate into the fog laced air. She should look like any other spirit here would - dreary and lifeless with little light or emotion included, but she _didn’t_. Biting his lip, Killian tried not to take amusement in that astounding fact as he watched her attempt to violently shake the dripping mud of the riverbank off her boots. No, there was _definitely_ a bit of fire in this woman.

So who in the bloody hell _was_ she?

She was young - far too young to have fallen victim to the Underworld. Killian tilted his head sadly as he realized they probably weren’t too different in terms of age. He hadn’t aged a day since he’d arrived in Purgatory, remaining rather bright eyed and dark headed despite enduring twenty eight years of solitude and isolating torment. Killian hadn’t seen anyone look as alive as she did for far too long and the realization prompted the strangest thought to enter into his addled mind.

Was _she_ part of the reason he was still here? Was he supposed to be… _waiting_ for her?

He followed her with curious eyes as she tried to navigate her way out of the murky marsh. She plodded through the grime with an expression that nearly caused him to laugh - well, until that prospective reaction was cut off by an unexpected and very whiny meow.

“Son of a…”

The little orange cat who’d startled him not long earlier had somehow wandered into what he thought was a fairly hidden vicinity. Killian cringed as the animal weaved in and out of his legs while he tried to keep his attention on the lass currently trying to avoid the smoky puddles not far from the ledge. 

“Ugh, little _heathen_ …”

Before Killian could complete his irritated insult, the small kitten disappeared into matching puffs of smoke. Feeling his stare grow wide, Killian’s jaw dropped at the sight now visible as the haze faded - two nearly identical creatures with bright eyes, pointed ears, and a clear sense of mischief. His brain batted what had just happened back and forth for a moment before he recalled the possibility of who they might be.

“Killian Jones,” one of them hissed, his glare bright with recognition. “Just the withering soul we’ve been searching for.”

“He’s _definitely_ shorter than you described, brother,” the other mentioned, circling him with a chuckle. “Doesn’t seem to have much in the way of wit. Not sure what Master might want with someone so... _ordinary_.”

“That’s funny - I was about to say something similar about the pair of you.”

Killian nearly choked on his own retorting words, feeling the color fall from his face at the reflex of defending himself. He hadn’t been required to do that in years, but now that he was being prodded, that neglected part of his personality was up and running smoothly. He wasn’t about to get pushed around by anyone, especially not two little _monsters_ who so far weren’t able to demonstrate much other than their ability to shapeshift into a furry little follower.

“Watch it, _buddy_ ,” the first one warned. “That’s no way to address a god - or _gods_.”

“Gods? You _two?”_

“ _You_ can call us Phobos and Deimos, spirit boy.”

“Now _that’s_ a little formal, isn’t it? If I recall properly, the pair of you also answer to ‘Pain and Panic’ - or are those not deitous for you?”

“You better check the attitude before we go, Jones,” the second one snapped. “Hades won’t like that sharp tongue of yours _one_ bit.”  


Hades - _that’s_ why they were there. Killian paused, furrowing his eyebrows in inquisition. What did the keeper of this awful realm want with him? His anxious attention darted briefly back down to the space where he’d last seen the wandering woman, but as his eyes darting up and down the shoreline, he noticed she was gone - _no_. His pulse quickened and he realized he had to find her. It had been twenty eight years of dreary days and restless hope until the moment he’d seen _her_. He wasn’t ready to let go of the chance that she might be the end to it.

“Look, I don’t know what in the bloody _hell_ your boss wants with me, but I don’t have time for-”

His refute was short lived, the words falling back down his throat as he fell to the ground with a thud. His skull was burning with a pain he didn’t know he could still experience as his eyes closed hard. The last thing he heard before a loss of consciousness claimed him was a loud _whoosh_ and the words _‘not as hard as we thought it’d be’_.  


###### 

The fall into whatever lair this was ended in a painful tumble, one that had Killian rubbing a sore spot on his head the moment he found his wits again. He staggered to his feet with a groan while untangling himself from the tatters of his clothing. He tugged hard on the cloak, adjusting the hood in annoyance as he tried to piece together where this odd pair of minions had deposited him.

It was dark, blue flames burning dimly providing the only light that allowed Killian to observe his new surroundings. The floor beneath him was intricately carved marble and it felt cool to the touch as his fingertips traced the patterns before rising. There were broken, crumbling pillars set firmly on the floor in a few places though their original purpose was obviously long forgotten. The walls around him were solid, covered with folds of black rock and threatening cracks that stretched up to a chandelier encased in bone and melted candles. The distant screams and splashes of the Styx could be heard faintly enough that it didn’t take Killian long to deduce exactly where he was.

This had to be the Palace of Hades. Well, _that_ or he was in Hell - and once again, he wasn’t sure which option was better.

“What am I doing here?”

“We told you,” they crooned, pacing opposite ends of the ground below. “Master wants to see you.”

“Uh, yeah, I recall you mentioning that,” Killian shot back, his eyes narrowed. “Just didn’t realize you meant immediately or I wouldn’t have jam packed my schedule for the day.”

“Oh, you mean those busy morning plans-” one of them teased, plucking the black reeds from Killian’s cloak pocket. “-with _these?”_

“Yeah, it seems like you had a _lot_ going on, Killian,” the other commented, snatching them and fanning them out dramatically. “What did you think you were going to do with these? I hope not try to fix that stupid lyre again - that’s getting _ridiculous_ to watch.”

“Oh, gods, he’s _still_ up to that? I thought you’d given up on that years ago,” the first continued, laughing maniacally. “You’ve _got_ to get a life, man.”

“Oh, _wait_ ,” the opposite cackled, pointing at Killian. “He can’t!”

Killian felt rage simmer under his skin, his blood running hot as he detested the two of them. He’d been trying to fix the broken lyre he’d found in the undergrowth of the grove for about a decade now. It had been a nearly impossible feat - every method and manner he attempted had failed hundreds of times over, driving him to suspend the infuriating task several different times. He wouldn’t have gone back to it at all, but the simple sound that had come from the strings the one time he’d gotten it to play properly had tempted him endlessly. Spending so many years repairing an instrument with strings that constantly broke was truly a mundane waste of time, but that’s exactly what Killian had - time to _waste_. It really wasn’t anyone else’s _damn_ business how he chose to do it.

“Oh, boys, taunting our guest isn’t hospitable in the slightest,” a deep voice boomed as it descended from the stairs. “Just because you can’t carry a tune doesn’t mean you can ridicule those who enjoy some decent music.”

Killian’s stare jerked in the direction of the words as he paid no attention to the scrambling exit of the two servants who’d brought him here. The owner of the voice moved slowly, dark smoke pooling at his feet as his lavish cloak pulled along the frigid ground. He was tall and broad, moving with authority while crossing his arms in leisure. The eyes were dark, full of a deviance that didn’t seem real as they honed in on him. He came into view eventually, his smirk evident amidst a dark beard and a messy, overgrown head of hair. Taking note of the skull clasp the was adorning the shoulder of his robe, Killian’s heart pounded a bit harder than he knew it was still capable of. The letters mixed themselves up in his head, taking a moment to form the name he wished he didn’t know.

“I take you know who I am, lad, but formalities never hurt,” the man started, extending a hand that seemed to represent a chilling yet very chipper motive. “The name’s Hades, lord of the dead - and I must say that this little meeting is long overdue.”

Killian stared at the man’s offered handshake for a moment, swallowing hard before his shaking fingers reached out to complete what was typically a standard greeting. The man’s skin was ice cold, but his hold was forceful and unforgiving. He grinned at Killian’s sense of shock with fervor, clearing enjoying the power he _knew_ he had over this little rendezvous. 

“Hades,” Killian repeated, thankful that his voice hadn’t stuttered over the name. “I, _uh_ …I’m-”

“Killian Jones - sailor, brother, and the picture of a broken heart in a former life,” Hades finished, his lips curving up suspiciously. “I must say I’ve been _dying_ to meet you, my boy.”  
  
Trying not to hinge on the obvious pun hanging in the air, Killian tried to steady his nerves as he thought about the million reasons that might lead the master of the Underworld to say something like that. He didn’t know much in this realm - not even after twenty eight years. Yet as he watched the man’s eyes fill with a ferocious intent, he knew that the reasons he’d been pondering weren’t nearly as wicked as whatever the hell he was about to be told.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In light of all the incoming news about the Underworld in the upcoming 5B premiere, I had to take a break from my other stuff to finish this chapter. Also, I had a serious need to write some Hades sass so here it is! As for this "twenty eight years" timeline, don't worry - it will start to come together very soon :] as always, I own nothing except my shattered OUAT soul.

It was definitely him. Killian's feet refused to move as he stared down his legendary host. Black smoke continued to swirl at the hem of man’s robe and he set into a slow swagger across the cold slate floor.

He paused with his arms crossed and nothing short of a deviant grin, leaning against a large boulder with a relaxed posture. This was swiftly shaping up to be a game - and it was one Killian didn't want to play.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost, boy,” Hades smirked, dusting off his shoulder. “But you know - ghosts and gods. Sounds similar I suppose, but I can assure you that they’re _quite_ different beings.”

“What am I doing h-here?”

The words escaped Killian before he could process the question they were forming. His eyes were still wide with that startled expression as he watched the lord of the Underworld saunter along the solid rock ground underfoot. There was something about him that didn’t sit right with Killian - something that was sparking a whole range of emotions that had laid dormant for years. He didn’t know why exactly, but Hades made him uneasy. Killian’s defenses flew up before he could determine why.

“You know I’ve got to say that I don’t usually like watching aimless souls wander around this place,” Hades commented, a nonchalant sigh leaving his lips as he ignored Killian’s question. “It’s all just so…. _depressing_ , you know?”

“I guess I see your point,” Killian said carefully, eyeing the man suspiciously. “But if that were completely true, I get the feeling I wouldn’t be here. So tell me why I am.”

"Well because _you_ , Killian Jones - you're entertaining," Hades grinned, a slow laugh building in his throat. "You’re angry _and_ unaffected all at once. Just constantly berating and punishing yourself for sins and mortal actions that you _barely_ even remember! Ha! It's all _so_ pathetic - those few shreds of humanity you've got left. That's going to kill you one day, kid. _Well_ , figure of speech, but you get the idea."

"Oh, so _that's_ it," Killian scoffed, his temper sparking a bit.. "You brought me here to mock my redemption - or warn me that I will never find it. Which is it?"

“Seems like _you_ need a little _reminder_ , my boy,” Hades sneered, his tone vengeful as he snapped. “Happy to oblige.”

Killian was about to reply when suddenly his head went dark and his mind filled with mystery. It was silent a moment as his eyes dropped closed and his staggered a bit, his balance weak and his heart thumping wildly. He shuddered slightly as the sound of clashing swords pierced his ears and a picture played like a hazy hallucination in his head. There was a ship, one that looked to be well built and purposeful - well, until he caught sight of its dark flag. _Pirates?_   What in the sodding hell was _this_ about-

_Stand at attention, mates! Now boarding the ship - the rightful captain of the Jolly Roger. Now, if the coward who tried stealing her from me would kindly show his face, I’ll give him the punishment he deserves._

He _knew_ that voice - and as strained and viciously domineering as it sounded, there was no mistaking its owner. It was _his_ harsh tone. This was his broken, returned memory. A flash of clanging metal on metal grabbed his attention as his reeling mind continued.  
  
_The only thing soft will be your guts spilling on this deck!_

A dark chuckle filled Killian’s mind as the recollection battled its way through his head. He caught clear view of the man narrating the angry conversation about this past ship. The dark head of hair and piercing blue eyes finally put it all together. It was him - and he was a _pirate_ captain.

_I can either make this painful….or quite painful. Answer me!_

The noise of splashing waters and whooping cheers from a tyrant crew made Killian’s heart drop as the remembered version of himself pushed the other pirate overboard. He’d _killed_ him - and for a _ship_. What the hell was happening?

"You know, despite everything we just saw there, I'm just a _little_ disappointed that you're snuffing out that heroism you seem to think you possess so quickly," he taunted. "Tell me, boy, you _truly_ believe that evil is the only recognizable side of this long life you've led? I mean you've done some pretty - well, _really_ questionable things, but you're here instead of-"

"Hades, _don’t_ ….just….If you've got a point, I suggest you _make_ it," Killian nearly growled as that persistent shame filled his veins. "Otherwise, I'd like to be on my way to inevitable damnation."

"Ah, so _that's_ it," Hades chided, leaning back in his throne. "Turning in as a martyr finally. Honestly, Jones, I expected you to do so eventually - stubborn as _you_ are, nobody can fight the darkness forever. Just never imagined a few tormenting words to be all it would take."

"Hades, just tell me what you want."

"Just to offer up the facts, Killian," he said casually, suddenly very interested in his fingernails. "The crucial one being that your rather endless and quite frankly _annoying_ determination won't save you - but I _can_."

"What in the devil does that mean?"

"Interesting choice of words there, Jones. Let's take a walk," Hades smirked, poofing closer into a cloud of blue smoke. "I think in this case, you should be shown rather than told."

###### 

"You see, Killian, I've worked hard to turn this into a decent place," Hades told him, gesturing to the the brimstone and bones littering their surroundings. "I know it's a little dark and a little gloomy....and I suppose the whole 'being full of dead people' is a _slight_ issue, but otherwise, we've got a pretty sweet setup here. I'd like to keep it that way."

"What's that got to do with me being here? I’m not your housekeeper, mate."

"Well, there's a sort of....incoming problem that needs addressing," Hades offered vaguely. "One I'm thinking you might know _exactly_ how to handle."

"You'll have to forgive the lack of experience, mate," Killian replied, frustration in his stare. "But I'm not all that well versed in something as vast as the obstacles of the Underworld."

"Not so much 'something'....as 'some _one'_ , Killian."

He felt his awakened mind slip back to her - the light laced goddess he'd seen near the river. She was the only other soul he'd encountered in years that he dared believe to still be a 'someone'. His teeth worried his lower lip as he tried to decipher whether or not Hades knew about her too.

"Am I supposed to know who this mystery visitor is?"

"Perhaps not," Hades shrugged, a flicker of fire in his glare. "But you will. You saw her earlier today after all."

Killian's boot caught on the end of a rock and he stumbled a bit, gasping as he tried to catch his footing. Hades let out a low laugh at the startled display of clumsiness. He _knew_. This was about her. Here Hades had been prodding him and he already _damn_ well knew. The moment pricked Killian's anger as he realized it was getting harder and harder to believe that this demon was not the devil.

"So," Killian started, taking a steadying breath. "You're spying on me now?"

"Spying? No. Monitoring? Yes. You see, I've got a bit of a vested interest in you, Jones," Hades carried on, heading toward a charcoal covered serving table. "Something to drink?"

"No," Killian snapped. "I don't drink."

"I'm assuming you just forgot to tack 'anymore' onto that statement. We both know you've never been the picture of sobriety - at least, not up until you arrived in this realm."

"I suppose there's not much I can say other than your beverage variety is lacking."

"I'll file your complaint with management and see what can be done, Captain. I'd hate to see this place end up with anything less than stellar reviews," Hades sneered, swallowing whatever he'd just poured from the nearby bottle. "After all, I'm going to need you to help me convince your friend to stay a while."

"My.... _friend?"_

"You know - the blonde girl. Oh wait, let me see if I can recall what your thought process was. Something about her possibly being an _angel_ was it?"

" _Stop_ ," Killian almost yelled, gritting his teeth in embarrassed anger. "I don't even know her."

"Ah, not like you should - not yet anyway," Hades remarked, tilting his head in the direction of a dark cavern a few paces away. "This way, Jones."

Killian wanted to storm out - or maybe just after him. He took an annoyed yet very deep breath as he tried to summon that calm nature he'd been working so hard to possess over the past several years. His feet moved steadily as he entered the space that appeared to be secluded for a reason. The walls were dank and barren save for the cracks in the smooth granite enclosing the place. There was nothing but a worn down pillar that supported some sort of box - or perhaps a _jar?_ It was a dusty purple color, sealed shut with a latch that was holding back whatever was trapped inside. Killian wasn't sure what exactly he was about to see, but the fact that Hades had housed nothing but that object in this rather secret area told him one thing - it was _bad_.

"What are we doing in here?"

He raised a defiant eyebrow as Hades lifted the lid and peered into the object. Before an answer could be given, a loud shrieking sound filled the echoing air. Killian's hands flew to his ears and he cringed as he watched Hades slam the lid back down on the container with an amused chuckle.

"Still gets me _every_ time," he sighed, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck. "Evils of the world and all that."

"Wait," Killian paused as memory of a legend prodded him. "That’s...Pandora's box?"

"Sure is. I figured _someone_ ought to keep watch over the thing while she's off being seduced by the gods or whoever she's swindling these days," Hades smirked. "You know how fickle women can be."

"She sounds delightful," Killian replied, his eyes catching sight of something round and vaguely white in the man's possession. "What is that? Something you’ve decided to keep safe for her as well?"

"The all-seeing eye of Graeae," Hades explained, polishing the item on his robe and testing its texture with a quick squeeze. "The box has been rather useful in storing this odd little trinket actually. Required a bit of reinforcement after that temperamental woman mucked it up, but nothing a bit of careful repair couldn't fix."

"I'm sure," Killian said cautiously. "So she gave it to you?"

"Actually, it belonged to a little.... _trio_ of ladies - or deities of a sort. They're, _uh_....not with us any longer," he gestured vaguely to the desolate air. "Terrible fate they each met. Ha! Forgive the pun. It's a bit sad really - quite the entertaining little group. They had a rather humorous argument about you when you drifted in from the land of the living."

"Me? Oh, why did they.... _what_ about me exactly?"

"Just bickering about who was going to cut the mortal thread on you - it seemed none of them had the desire to do it. I don't know if it was part of the plan or just those good looks someone blessed you with, kid, but anyway - here you are."

Killian tried not to beam at the idea of being gawked at, even in his half dead state. It was no secret that his handsome face had tipped fortune in his favor a few times back in the mortal world - he'd always been a skilled charmer. Yet as he reviewed the comment Hades had just offered, he realized that he hadn't been kept in this odd condition of partially alive just so the goddesses of the Underworld had something pleasant to look at. No, there was _more_ to this - and his mind spun in circles as he realized he'd only be able to get answers from the demon currently playing him like a pawn.

"That's what I've always liked about you though, Killian," Hades grinned, a knowing expression filling his features. "You've always been good at sensing when there's another motive - which of course, there is."

"It's getting a little difficult to process all of this with you meddling around in my mind," Killian quipped, now very irritated at the lack of mental privacy. "I don't know what you're playing at, Hades, but it's getting old fast."

"Oh, re- _lax_ , Jones. Just had to finish setting up the pieces to the intricate game that's been nearly three decades in the making. Just keep your cloak on and calm down, sailor."

"A game? This isn't a game."

"Then let's make it one," Hades replied, mischief in his stare as he lifted the eye into the air. "Now pay _attention_. The rules here are pretty simple - even for a scoundrel like you."

The last thing Killian wanted to do was engage in any sort of agreement with Hades - sure, this man wasn’t exactly the devil, but making a deal with him was definitely not on the short list of wise choices to be made in the Underworld. He knew that he’d been brought here for a reason though and after twenty eight years of being unneeded, a moment like this one fed his curiosity in a way he truly knew was dangerous. Despite how terrible he knew a decision like this could pan out, he _had_ to know - and it wasn’t like he had another choice.

“Fine. I’m listening.”

Hades gave him a victorious grimace as his palm widened and the eye glowed green, rising fast into the dim air with a brilliant brightness that caught Killian completely off guard. An illuminated disc began to swirl overhead as a soft whoosh accompanied the motion. The space around him grew hazy and he coughed, a rather mortal reaction that startled him a bit - but not as much as what he was about to hear.

Not even _close_.

“You see, Killian - I'm a planner,” Hades continued, his hand gesturing to the picture of the night sky the all-seeing eye was projecting for them. “I like when things are neat and orderly and well thought out, but what I do _not_ like is when people go sticking their noses where they don't belong - like your little blonde 'goddess' is _probably_ about to do.”

“I told you I don't _know_ her,” Killian reminded him, angling his head sideways. “But you do - and it's pretty obvious you're not her biggest fan."

“Ah, ah, _ah_ \- patience, my boy,” Hades chided him. “Now _where_ was I….oh, yes! The grand scheme!”

He waved a hand to wipe away the star spangled view overhead, quickly replacing it with the vague image of the wandering woman he'd seen earlier. He squinted at the conjured vision, watching her move to the edge of the swampy landscape while avoiding the mossy mud. Her hair was light and flowing as she tucked it behind her ear before peering from side to side in contemplation. There was a slight hop of determination in her steps and Killian had to muse at his observation. From what he’d witnessed so far, she had more life to her than this _whole_ realm possessed - the entire wealth of broken souls combined.

“Ah, the look of a man _enraptured_ ,” Hades commented while elbowing him. “You might not know much about her, but you certainly look like you'd _like_ to.”

Killian rocked slightly on his heels, biting his lip as he tried not to give himself away. He _did_ want to know her. Something about this woman had drawn him in from the instant he spotted her on the swampy banks of the screaming river - and it wasn’t just because she was the only source of true life he’d seen in many years. She had something kindred about her. She was there for a reason - and one that clearly pertained to _him_.

“Well then,” Hades laughed, raising a clever eyebrow. “Allow me to acquaint you with the woman who just _might_ hold the key to exactly what you’ve been pining for since the moment your miserable soul entered this kingdom - your _freedom_.”


End file.
